


The Sunlight's Curse

by LokianaWinchester



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [21]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: Prompt fill for "Is that my shirt?" forlafayettesasson tumblr. Also kind of the aesthetic companion piece toThe Moonlight's Blessing:)





	The Sunlight's Curse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [johnllauren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/gifts).



Jesus was having a quiet evening. Usually that meant staying in with his friends, chatting until the early hours of the next days and simply enjoying the cool air of the night that came in through half-opened windows.

He had grown to love the night. Daytime was hectic, people bustling all around, like busy ants, never staying still; daytime meant heat, dry streets, dusty and unkept, the smell unbearable for long. Daytime meant exhaustion.

But the night was quiet. There was nobody here, except people he trusted; they did not pressure him into anything, they expected nothing other of him, than to be their friend as they were his. And maybe to be blessed.

The night was cooler, the dust in the streets settled and the people that had caused it to rise up settled into their homes themselves. It was the most peaceful time of day.

Jesus had loved the sun once, the sheer power of its brightness, that illuminated the day and warmed up the world, its comforting rays, the continuity of its rhythm rising and sinking, each day. It had given him hope. But now it irritated him. He found himself wishing for endless nights, for eternal silence and for the blinding sun to never rise again. Because seeing the sun go about its steady schedule showed him how time passed. It made it clear to him, that time was running away underneath his fingertips and he could not stop it. He had no control. Usually he could try to forget this and have a good time, but tonight he was feeling odd, he had gone to his room early but found it difficult to sleep. He was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, wishing for company.

No, company had been the reason he excused himself so early. He was wishing for Judas.

Jesus sighed. It was no use wishing for that; they had fought earlier and Judas had stormed out of the room. After that Jesus had not felt right. Judas was one of the only constants he had in life. Judas was now, what the sun had once meant to him.

He was the hope, the brightness and warmth, that made even cold nights comfortable. Judas was the rational voice in the back of Jesus’ head and most of the time in front of it too.

Judas was not afraid to disagree with him; the other apostles always held back, none of them differed from Jesus’ standpoint. That was their whole point. They were his followers; loyal and kind to him. Likeminded.

And so was Judas, only Judas was so much more. He had started out like the others, agreeing with Jesus on everything, bringing valuable insights to conversations. But he had held himself back and Jesus had noticed.

He had told Judas to speak up and the other man had not believed him, but Jesus was certain about his words, and finally Judas spoke.

The others had not started to act the same, but still Judas did not stop contradicting Jesus on certain points, telling him if he went too far; not many other people would do this, Jesus was sure, but Judas looked at him, always making sure that he overstepped no boundaries, always caring and passionate. And Jesus looked back.

It was these looks that reassured Judas that he was doing the right thing, and it was these looks through which Jesus first realised that he was in love with him.

Judas was absolutely amazing, but neither of them had it in them to initiate something bigger than a kiss here or there.

It was not unusual for Jesus to kiss people, cheeks, foreheads, hands; people believed his touch to be healing and his kisses doubly so, but after his realisation about Judas, touching him had become special.

When Jesus kissed his cheek one night, Judas shifted, moved his head just the slightest bit. Jesus’ lips landed against the corner of his mouth. When he pulled away, Judas looked at him through half-closed eyes, pupils blown wide, then he leaned in and their lips met again.

There were other people in the room, but Jesus did not mind, he barely noticed that everybody stopped talking.

When they broke apart, Judas looked at him, unsure. Then he smiled  hesitantly.

Jesus averted his eyes. Their friends were slowly starting to talk again, but there was no denying they had seen them.

They had kissed a few more times, stolen moments, stolen touches, far from the eyes of the other apostles, but neither of them dared to go further. And neither of them ever spoke about it.

Then earlier, Judas had brought up an issue with their savings. Jesus thought they were well off; why should they save up money for bad times that might not even happen. He saw reason when it came to a logical amount as a precaution, but Judas was suggesting they should not even use the money they had, they should buy cheaper food, clothes, necessities they could not do without. ‘In case, just in case’ he had said. But he had no answer to Jesus’ inquiry. ‘In case of what?’

It had escalated from there, raised voices and strained muscles, both of them trying to hold themselves back, but the tension was there and it only built until Judas left.

Once he was gone, Jesus felt like he was deflating, he was not hungry, did not want to be around anybody, just wanted to be alone.

But still he yearned for Judas.

Jesus looked out the window. The night sky was pitch black, clouds even covering the stars. He could barely see the outlines of the room.

He closed his eyes.

Jesus was not tired in the least; he was exhausted, but he did not feel the deep longing for sleep he was so used to, each night.

“Jesus,” a voice came from the door. He jolted up.

“Judas?” he asked in response.

“Can I come in?” The other man’s voice was low, his words hesitant.

“Yeah,” Jesus breathed out.

“I’m sorry,” Judas said while he stepped closer. Jesus heard his feet fall against the floor; he nearly felt as if he could sense Judas approaching, like something was physically connecting them. “I didn’t mean to fight with you. I was afraid this would happen when you told me not to hold back. I get too invested in arguments. I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s okay,” Jesus said and set his feet onto the floor, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Come here.”

Judas knelt down in front of him, between his legs. They were face to face now, only inches apart, but Jesus still barely recognised anything in the dark. The vague outlines of Judas’ face were stunning, as always, and Jesus’ hands came up to cup his face.

“You cried?” he asked after a second, feeling the damp trails on Judas’ cheeks.

“I thought that I seriously messed this up.” Judas’ voice was unsteady, he sounded like he was still on the verge of crying.

“Never,” Jesus whispered before he leaned in.

Their lips met once again; the touch was hesitant, chaste, barely lips moving against each other. Jesus let one hand wander to the back of Judas’ head and closed his fingers around the thick blond hair. He parted his lips the same moment Judas did, tilted his head just enough to grant him better access. Judas’ hands were coming up around his back to pull him closer and Jesus barely choked off a moan that was forming in the back of his throat at this action.

He wanted Judas so much, too much and now he was finally close to having him. He put all that relief and elation into the kiss.

When they broke apart, neither of them dared to speak for fear of ruining the moment. Slowly, Jesus let his hands wander to the collar of Judas’ shirt, lightly tracing the skin there, then along his shoulder, stopping at his upper arms. Something was suspiciously familiar about the texture under his fingertips; this was not something Judas usually wore. He was more of a tight cotton t-shirts and mesh tops person, not that Jesus would complain about that in the least. But he recognised this shirt.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked.

Judas let his head fall forward onto Jesus’ shoulder; Jesus held him close, put one hand against the back of his head, gently combing his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah.”

“Since when… why?” Jesus blurted out, incredulously. A smile was rapidly spreading on his face.

“I don’t know… weeks,” Judas mumbled into the nape of his neck. The hot puffs of air hitting Jesus’ skin sent shivers through him.

“It smells like you,” he admitted. His voice was barely audible, even so close to Jesus’ ear. His arms tightened around Jesus’ middle.

In response, the latter turned to kiss Judas’ temple.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said softly. “We can figure out the money tomorrow.”

Judas froze for a moment, as if unsure of Jesus’ words.

“Okay.” A mere whisper, then a peck to Jesus’ neck.

Judas almost hectically took off his boots, then his tight leather trousers and Jesus’ shirt, before joining its rightful owner under the covers.

“I had it for weeks, but I only wore it tonight,” Judas said when Jesus put an arm around his waist, hugging him close. “I needed your touch and I thought it would be enough, but it wasn’t.” He exhaled a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry if you thought you couldn’t come to me,” Jesus mumbled against the naked skin of Judas’ shoulder. “I didn’t mean to drive you away, I never want that.”

Judas clasped a hand over Jesus’. The touch was firm, reassuring, but gentle all the same.

“I need you too,” he admitted. Promptly, Judas turned around without letting go off his hand. He pressed a kiss to Jesus’ knuckles, one to the back of his hand, then looked up at Jesus. The hesitation that usually preceded their kisses was still there, almost tangible between them, but then they both surged forward to meet each other in a kiss, desperate to prove their previous words.

Eventually, Judas pulled back, his smile clearly visible despite the darkness. He shifted slightly to press a last kiss against Jesus’ temple, mirroring the latter’s earlier gesture. Then he turned back, his hand still firmly holding Jesus’.

The last thing Jesus remembered thinking before he fell asleep was that somehow, in all his discomfort and uneasiness, there was some good still left for him. He finally had Judas; he no longer dreaded the sunrise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, kudos and comments are beyond gratefully accepted and highly appreciated <3


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